There are so many things wrong with me at the moment that if they all decide to act up in unison, the result is quite spectacularly miserable.
That was my day yesterday.
After a very promising morning (did I over do it?), my brother John took me downtown for my second last radiation treatment and had me home by 3 pm.
But by that time I felt nauseated, constipated, was gasping for air due to the fluid build up in my lungs, my abdomen had become a swallowed bowling ball pushing outward against my rib cage, my head hurt, the bottoms of my feet hurt, I ached and I was agitated and I coughed and I coughed.
But I no longer had sharp pains in my back.
"So, how are you doing today?" asked Linda as she arrived home from school, a lilt of hope upon her voice.
But there was little good news to be had from a husband in misery.
By bedtime things seemed to have settled to a tolerable level and I awoke this morning feeling not too badly, although my breathing is laboured and still I cough, the fluid rumbling around in my chest.
Today is the last day of radiation. John is picking me up around 8:30 and by 11:00 I should be back home again, this phase of treatment behind me.
Next Wednesday I begin a new cycle of chemo, which should put in check a lot of these symptoms, exchanging them for chemo side effects.
A change, they say, is as good as a rest.
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